


Undefined Rules

by AfricaAlaska90



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amorality, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Deserves Better, F/F, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, John Winchester Tries, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), My First Fanfic, Mythology - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Religion, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-15 22:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21025730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfricaAlaska90/pseuds/AfricaAlaska90
Summary: The world has gone to hell again. Dean is out of options until he isn't. He makes a deal with the devils that he knows to stave off a future that he couldn't accept. This is a look at his tumble through time as he fixes some shit and avoids some crap and saves the world along the way. Hes to tired for this shit, but thats the job.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters and am not making a profit from this work besides simple enjoyment.

The world was ending, the world was always ending it seemed. Dean was so tired. They had won before, but it never seemed to stick. It was just him against a world that wanted to go up in flames and this time the odds seemed all the more impossible. Never mind that impossible was what Winchesters used to specialized in. 

"I can't do this anymore I don't want to. I'm done. If the empty is what's waiting for me then let it take me. I'm ready." Dean yelled at the sky to no one in particular. The powers that be seemed to have also ditched to who knows where. 

It had been weeks since Sam had died. A stray bullet of all things is what finally did the younger man in. It was ridiculous, as if he hadn't survived worse. There was no angel mumbo jumbo from Cas to fix him because he'd been dead for months. The demons were a mess and had gone to ground and the foolish ones were still running a muck. So there was no deal to be made. It had been an age since heaven had been useful. So when Dean lost Sam, he really lost him.

The whole system was broken. They had broken the god damned universe. Dean was going through the motions now. Killing things cause that's what he did not because he wanted to do it. He had long since deserted the bunker. His home as haunted as any house he had ever cleansed. 

"Now that's not the Dean that I know." A smooth smoky voice said from behind him.

Dean blinked and found himself in an rundown unassuming all American dinner. The place was complete with chrome accents and red fake leather booths. Dean turned and looked at Death, it had been a while since he had last seen her. 

"Hello Billie."

"Hello Dean." The reaper turned death tilted her head in a slight nod. Dean gave nothing but a disgruntled huff in reply. He eyed Billie up and down. She was looking pretty good for the end of the world. 

"Come to take me to the empty." He asked. 

"Would that it be so easy. But it never is with you Winchesters." Billie sighed in a long suffering manner. "No, I've come to make a deal." Dean gave a dark chuckle and an eye roll sent heaven ward that could be felt in his very soul. 

"I thought you were out of deals for us. That we'd used up all the tricks and tips and were on our own now." Billie leaned in a more relaxed stance while she waited for Dean to be finished, raising an eyebrow at him to seemingly ask if he was done. 

"This dimension seems to attract more than it's fair share of interference. To many cooks in the kitchen if you were. And in this moment the souls are all damned and that's not how this story was supposed to go."

"Well sometimes shit happens." He retorted.

"Not this type of shit, not at this level so consistantly." Billie huffed.

"So what are you saying."

"I'm saying the powers that be fricked up. And that the whole of everything doesn't deserve to pay that price." She leaned in close. "I'm asking you to pull it together one last goddamn time and get your hands dirty." 

Dean shuffled and looked her dead in the eye and quirked his brow. Honestly, what did he have left to lose. His kid had been killed, his best friend was gone, and his brother is dead. He hasn't been this alone in along time. And as someone who can admit he leans toward being more codependent than not, he knows he's been known to make questionable decisions when left to those devices. 

"What do I have to do." He asked. Billie smiled for the first time since seeing the last Winchester. Dean felt a familiar chilling tug in his very being before he saw her.

"We were hoping you would say that." Was the sultry rely, it sent shivers down his back. Dean turned with widdend eyes.

"Amara." He exhaled. Her eyes sparkled like dying galaxies. 

"Hello Dean." 

  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke with a start. Everything inside of him tumbled like he'd been on a rollercoaster too long and the bottom of his stomach was trying to take up permanent residence in his chest.

"Ugh… no, no, no." Dean rushed to the dimly lit bathroom and heaved the meal he didn't remember eating into the toilet and held on for dear life. Another wave came over him and he clutched the cool porcelain like it held answers or the cure. "Oh dear god."

"Dean…" John Winchester stood in the doorway of the poorly lit motel bathroom. "Son are you alright."

Dean proceeded to empty the remaining contents of his stomach into the toilet. The fine sheen of sweat covering his whole body seemed to suddenly turn cold. "Dad,"

John stepped further into the washroom with his son and knelt next to his ill child. He pressed the back of his large callused hand on Dean's damp forehead. He felt cool in contrast and Dean lent into the touch, like a moth to a flame.

"Your burning up kid." All Dean could muster was a lazy glace in his father's direction. His father who had been dead for over a decade and a half.

"I'm fine--" Dean grumbled as if saying the words might somehow make them true. John gave him an unimpressed look that spoke volumes and demanded honesty promptly.

"I'm aint feel'in so hot." He mumbled. John's brows scrunched together in contemplation. 

"You think you're done tossing your dinner." Dean gave a shallow nod, head still spinning. "Alrighty then let's get you back into bed."

He grabbed his son under his arms and heaved him to a more upright position. He then helped walk, but more like drag, his limp child back into the main room and laid him on the bed he shared with his brother.

"Ugggh."

________________________

Dean held his head as the impala lumbered along some unpaved backroad. Everything ached and not in a fun sort of way. He reached for the water bottle that was laying sideways in the passenger's side wheel well. Taking in a deep swig of the lukewarm water he scrunched up his nose at the bitter old taste. 

"How you feeling son." John asked him with his own special brand of frustrated concern. Dean just sighed as he looks at his Dad, head forward eye glued to the road in single minded focus. And wasn't that a trip to be able to see that again, his dad.

"I'm fi--" Dean started.

"Now think real hard before you reply that your fine, cause if you do, I'm liable to smack you upside the head." His dad punctuated the statement with a jerky nod as if they had come to some sort of agreement. 

"I feel like my head has been run through a blender and then poured back into my skull. My stomach ain't much better but there ain't a thing to be done so I don't see the point in bringing it up." Under threat of torture Dean would deny that he huffed at his father like a sulking teenager. 

"Hump, I just want to make sure your alright." John intoned in a rare moment of softness.

"I know Dad...ugh" Dean's eyes rolled into the back if he's head and his whole body began to shake. His head rattled against the glass of the impala. 

John jerked the impala over to the shoulder of the road with a screeching of tires amidst a choirs of honking horns. In the backseat Sam jerked awake with a startled sound.

"Dad?!"

John was flying out of the car slamming the door as he rounded the vehicle to the passengers side in a desperate rush to reach his son.

Dean was unresponsive and laid limp in his arms. Sam had gotten out of the car at that point and his eyes were the size of saucers. 

"Dad what's going on. What happens to Dean?"

"Samuel I don't know, get back in the car."

"But.."

"Now!" John checked over Dean for any injuries. What the hell was going on with his kid.

__________________________

John looked in the rearview mirror at his sleeping eldest child. His face was flushed with fervor. Both his boys were extremely healthy and rarely got sick and when they did they didn't stay sick for long. Dean had been in and out of it going on five days following the seizure.

"Sammy how's your brother holding up?" Johns eyes flicked to the left of the mirror to take in his younger son. Big eyes turned back at him filled with concern.

"He's still just sleeping. Is that normal he feels awful warm. Should I wake him up."

"No don't wake him. Sleep will help him heal." He replied curtly and the boy shut his mouth with a click of his teeth. The oldest Winchester frowned, he hadn't meant to snap but he didn't know what to do with Dean this sick. It was getting to the point that he was thinking of taking him to a hospital consequences be damned. 

"Uhh… mara" Dean mumbled as he tossed fitfully.

John glance back at his son. What was it with that damned name the boy kept uttering it like a prayer in his fevered state. John was reluctant to ask for help not wanting others in his business he'd rather do things on his own, but they were out of options and time. In this instance he couldn't, wouldn't let his pride get in the way.

John pulled into the gas station rest stop. Turning to the boys he sighed, "Sam stay in the car. I won't be more than a minute." His son nodded mutely back in response.

John stride from the impala and shut the door firmly and wait to the phone booth. Placing in the message coins he took a steadying breath. He punched in the number with confidence of passed frequent use. The dial rang, and rang maybe they had changed their number in the years since they had last talked.

Inserting the necessary coins John placed the long distance call. The other end rang and rang, so long he thought it might ring straight through to the unset up voice mail box.

"...Hello?" A gruff groggy voice layden heavy with sleep carried through the speaker. John released a bated breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Bobby, it's John. I need your help."

"Where are you?" The other man was wide awake now.

John gave a slight smile it was good to hear a friendly voice again


	3. Chapter 3

"Amara"

"Hello Dean." The Darkness gave Dean a soft, sad smile and those were two words he had never associated with the cosmic entity. Dean whirled on Billie with fire from the pit in his eyes.

"What the hell kinda games is this Billie." Billie scoffed unthreatened as if the only being to have ever killed death wasn't looking at her with rage and destruction in their eyes.

"Hopefully not a game at all. Stop being childish Dean." Dean's eyes widened marginally.

"Childish-" He softly roared.

"Yes."

"She tried to end the world or had you forgotten." He punctuated the statement with an accusing finger. Amara gave Dean another one of those confusing looks that did terrible odd things to his insides.

"I did apologize."

"Hmff" Unfortunately apologies don't fix squat.

"Did you not enjoy the return of your mother." There was pleading in Amara's eyes.

"She's dead." Dean spit head tilted towards the checkered floor of the dinner.

"She wasn't when I left."

"That's just it though isn't it. You and god got busy with your disappearing act and you left the earth to be damned by all the other beings that wanted to tear it apart."

"Dean, I know…"

"No you don't know. The world wants to end! It's gunning to go to hell in a handbasket. And you left us to keep on course something designed to crash, to save something that doesn't want to be saved." There was so much pain and anger in Dean's voice and he could hear it in the way his throat clenched around the confession.

"I know." She replied with an aged sort of fierceness. "It wasn't supposed to be this way. But god's gone and we've been left with the mess, again."

"What do you mean gods gone?!" Dean demanded. This was not a rollercoaster that he wanted to ride again been there done that, the wild goose chase was one for the ages.

"She means exactly that. That he's gone and everything's spinning out of control and needs to be righted." Billie barked. A force pushed him towards one of the red leather seats. Dean squinted at Billie in irritation. She looked pointedly at the seat as she slid into the other side of the booth. “Sit.” She ordered and he sat.

Amara also chose this moment to come closer to the pair and slide into the booth on Billie’s side like grace itself. She winced at the slight flinch that he gave to her close proximity

"Well let's just find him he's been found before." Billie shot him a hard look. Dean raised his hands in a truce.

"Well actually that not technically true." Amara sieghed.

"Meaning?"

"God's missing and has stayed missing a lot longer than was believed. We never actually found him Dean." At Billie’s explanation panic washed over Dean in a crushing wave.

"Then… Chuck? What?! Who can impersonate god?"

"Well," Amara began, "I could. Impersonate God, I mean if I wanted to."

"Well you obviously haven't been since you were doing hard time and all." Amara quirked an eyebrow in irritation at that. Dean gave her an impish grin, "What,"

"You are correct in your assumption that it wasn't me impersonating my brother, seeing as for a majority of that time I was indisposed." Amara explained.

"So who then. Who or what can impersonate a god." He asked impatiently

"Well if you follow that logic the only answer that makes any sense would be another god." Billie interjected rather resigned.

"Hold up, you and Chuck are like super star deities. The O.G.'s if you will. So what in the hell is powerful enough to dupe you guys."

"Well unlike my big brother I am not all knowing. And as for who could do it, my bets on my other brother." The dread settled like lead lining Dean's stomach.

"You have another brother." Amara nodded and Billie smirked.

"Ever heard of the trinity. They were where the idea originated."

___________________

Amara began slowly as if pacing herself, “In the beginning we were all that was, as far as existences go it wasn’t a bad one. I had a family and I was loved and fully known and there was peace. Then god wished for there to be space and form and a place for us to reside so we created heaven.”

“Wait, you created heaven?” Dean asked incredulously.

“Don’t be so surprised Dean there are many things that you don’t know about me. And in a since I did help create heaven. I gave it space, a dimension where it could exist. That is how we did things back then, together. I cleared a way, Elohim, God would design and gather together matter and our brother would give form to our imagenings.” Amara looked out almost wistfully as if she wasn’t fully present and lost in time or her own thoughts.

“In this way we went on for eons or so it seemed and we were content. We are primordial beings I am not good or bad I simply exist, unencumbered by your moral constraints. But Elohim saw the universe differently and desired for things like order and defined rules and lines, and he was my brother and I would not begrudge him his wants. But Chuck was at times what you might describe as spiteful or jealous and honestly I don't know but I think it wasn’t his fault. His ways were just as deeply embedded in him as my moral indifference, or Elohim’s need for order and rule. In a sense Chuck was Elohim’s exact opposite, he created for creations sake but felt no need or responsibility once done.”

“Well that sounds like Chuck.” Dean schoffed

“We created many things in this manner we filled our home with the heavenly host and we loved them.” she continued.

“So you helped make Angels?” Amara gave a soft laugh.

“No I did not. Angels are different then you have known them. They were simply or unsimply multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. They were light and pure. This was before a time of forms and concrete space. Heaven was more in our minds than anything else. The idea’s for the universe at large had been in the making for an age and I had already done my part carving into the very fabric of reality making space for more. Maybe that’s why Chuck acted the way that he did, in his eyes, I was no longer necessary. And so he turned the hosts against me and they attacked and I retaliated and Elohim’s hand was forced to protect his creation. Elohim locked me way, but I have to believe that Chuck messed with the seal in some way because it was so painful and stifling and limited and anytime I approached the mechanics of the seal it seemed to seep out poison. A sense of malice and unbridled violence I had never come into contact with.” Dean nodded along hanging on every word that fell from Amara’s lips.

“He turned the mark from a cage into a curse.” He grimaced.

“Yes. It poisoned Lucifer rendering his new being unrecognizable, it poisoned Cain, and it tried to do the same harm to you.”

“Well I'd say it did plenty harm to me.” Dean said with a deprecating laugh.

“I know that it changed things but ultimately it did not change you. The core of who you are and what you stand for got a little lost for awhile but it wasn't ripped from you like the others. And at the core that is what Lucifer and Cain were contening with, a loss of identity, personhood, and purpose and unimaginable blinding rage. All of those things working in tandem were the perfect recipe for supreme violence and malice.”

“So on the issue of missing god. What are you gonna do?” Billie and Amara shared a look.

“We’re going to go look for him.” Billie stated simply.

“Where do you look for god?” Dean rubbed his forehead feeling the phantom of a headache coming on at the impending explanation.

“In time.” Amara replied. Dean cocked his head to the side believing he had heard wrong.

“Excuse me, in time?”

“Yes, time was not a construct that we created therefore we live outside of it and can be hidden in it or lost to it. Time is not this linear thing that you humans tend to picture it as. Its an ocean and its circular and cyclical and vastly complex.” She informed them matter of factly.

“So you want me to what, come search through time with you for god?”

“No.” Billie said

“Then, what?” He questioned irritated.

“We need you to help us stabilize the timeline. It is in constant flux normally. But as you can tell nothing about this is normal. So we are going to send you back to a point in time where your effect can be most valuable in stabilizing the timeline.”

“So your plan is to shoot me back in time.” Dean confirmed.

“That is an oversimplification, but yes Dean.” Amara gave him a weak smile.

“Why?” He inquired.

“Because I want to find my big brother. Because Chuck shouldn’t win. Because without Elohim I don’t know if peace is possible.” She whispered.

“Okay” Dean said with a nod of agreement. “Let’s do this.”


	4. Chapter 4

Bobby Singer had a good day and those were few and far between nowadays. He had finished a poltergeist case a few towns over and no one else had gotten hurt. The grateful wife had sent him packing with a whole basket of baked goods in thanks for saving her family. The world wasn't a nice place not by a long shot but he had helped restore a little bit of peace to it in the best way he knew how and that was taking out evil sons of bitches.

The drive back to North Dakota was easy and smooth. Almost like a road trip, as if that's something he had time for anymore. The drive gave his mind time to wander which was less than productive. He checked in with a few of his contacts that had called asking about lore and information. He let them know that he was almost home and would get back to them as soon as he was back.

Bobby got off the phone with the Harvelles and sighed. Now there was a family. If there was a right way to be in "the life", if there was a right way to go about hunting the Harvelles were the only ones that he knew were doing it correct. The man had a beautiful wife and cute kid he adored and a business. Bobby wished to be so lucky one day but then again wishing got you nowhere and he had it better that a lot of folks. He truly believed that family was something that you carved out for yourself and while his might not be ideal it was his and he'd fight to the last for it. Even if he wanted to knock skulls together on the best of days.

All in all, the day had gone well which should have been his first clue that shit was due to hit the fan. Like all truly pit dropping things the news came in the form of a call in the dead of night. When dedicating your life to hunting things that go bump in the night, Bobby had learned one golden rule; when your people call you pick up the goddamn phone.

The ringing faded in and out as Bobby search his house for his phone. He stumbled in the dark hitting his knee on a coffee table and stubbing his toe on a pile of books he had forgotten. He let out a hushed curse into the cool room.

"...Hello?" Bobby answered.

"Hello, Bobby it's John. I need your help." John's raspy baritone voice rumble across the line and wrecked Bobby's night. Good god the world must be ending.

"Where are you?" He asked all drowsiness leaving him immediately. There was a shaky sigh on the other end of the line and Bobby could hear John taking steadying breaths. “John, please, where are you? What’s wrong? Are you on a hunt? Are you hurt? Is it the boys?”

John cleared his throat. “Its bad Bobby. Its Dean.”

“Damn it.” He whizzed. “How far out are you?”

“We’re about four hours out, but Bobby he needs a doctor. He needs one bad.” John sounds stained.

“Alright I’ll get things set in motion.Tell me exactly what happened.” John cleared his throat uncomfortable.

“He got sick, was running a fever but that's normal kids get sick.” There was unsaid regret in his tone that was displaced if all the kid had gotten was a fever.

“What more than that John. Damn it I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Bobby said.

“Well, then he had a seizure and he’s been in and out of it since. The fever hasn’t come down much and he hasn’t stayed coherent for long.” John said ashamed.

“Shit. Just shit man. What the actual hell! Why didn’t you take him to see someone right away?” He demanded.

“Because I thought he would get better, but he hasn’t and I ain't got anybody else to call!” Bobby knew that it pained his old friend to admit that he wasn’t enough to take care of his boy, but damn this man and his blasted pride.

“Get yourself here and we’ll figure it out.” Bobby told him with conviction he didn’t feel.

“Okay.” John said with something akin to relief.

_____________________________________

John hung up the phone receiver and turned back toward the impala. Sam sat up straight in his seat in the back. The boy had more questions in his eyes than John had answers. What could he say other than he didn’t know and he was so tired of telling his son that. He rolled his shoulders and straightened them as he reached the vehicle.

“Dad?” John met Sam's wide eyes in the rearview mirror as he slid into the driver's seat. This past week had aged him and he felt it in his very bones. He couldn’t remember a time that he had felt this drained in such a long time.

“Sam… I know. You’ve got questions and we are going somewhere that we can get some answers. Your brother is going to be okay.” He held in a sigh and received a small nod from his boy who then turned to look at his older brother. Dean was still passed out in the back seat next to his brother.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked cautiously and John hated it because it was his fault. He wanted the boys to be able to come to him with their questions but he needed them to do as they were told when it mattered because in their family, in his line of work it could be the difference between life or death. It was times like this when John missed Mary. It was times like this he grieved for his sons childhoods, angered that circumstances demanded that they grow up fast.

“We’re going to Bobby’s.” That brought a hint of a smile to Sam’s lips. Those expressions were becoming phantoms that he couldn’t summon from his child.

“Okay Dad.”

____________________________


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting to Bobby's

They arrived in Sioux Falls at about 3 am. John rounded the car and opened the passenger door and Sam hopped out. The boy was bouncing on his toes around the car with nervous energy wanting to help. Then Bobby’s front door opened and he strode towards the car to help John with Dean. Dean was more conscious than he had been in days as John helped hall him out of the car he gave his dad a weak smile. 

“Hey, Dad…” Dean mumbled. John ran his hand over his head, the kids’ fever seems to have gone down significantly. 

“Hey, buddy.” Bobby reached the vehicle at that point peering around John to check on Dean. His hand landing heavily on Sam’s shoulder to steady the boy and ground him. Sam stopped flitting about standing at attention when he caught John’s eye. 

“How’s he doing?” Bobby directed the question towards John. He gave the other hunter a nod in greeting. 

“He’s doing okay I guess. Better than he was a few hours ago.” As if to punctuate Johns point Dean chose that moment to try and stand by himself. His legs were less the cooperative seeming to have forgotten that their whole purpose was to hold him up. 

“Hey, Bobby.” He took a step forward and stumbled into Bobby who caught him with a grunt. Bobby shared a look with John over the boys head. 

“Hey kid,” Bobby said fondly. "Well, it's cold as balls out here let's get all your stuff inside. Sam get the bags will ya." The younger Winchester hurries to help. 

"Thanks again, Bobby." John said. 

"It's not a problem John." was Bobby's gruff reply. 

The trek to the house was slow going ad the older men allowed Dean to use them as human crutches. Sam was able to make multiple trips out to the car. It was like the boy was racing an invisible clock. He had all the bags in the house by the time they settled Dean on the couch in the living room. The older boy let out a bone-weary sound as he sunk into the sofa eyes half-mast. 

“How you feeling Dean?” Sam asked appearing with a glass of cool water for him to drink. Dean turned his head Sam’s way and gave him a bright grin. He took the drink appreciatively and took a long swig of the cold water some of it dribbled down his chin. He whipped at the trail of liquid with the edge of his sleeve.

“I’m doing pretty good Sammy.” Dean’s eyes then swived to John and he, in turn, looked at Sam and gave him a nod of approval to which the kid gave him a shy look of apprehension and a soft grin.

“I’m glad.” Sam said. 

“Yeah me too.” His brother replied in a more joking manner.

“Well, I think that it’s time for bed for both of you,” John interjected. The boys both looked at him and nodded. “I think it’s best if you stay on the couch, tonight Dean. Just so you’re not dealing with stairs” 

“Okay, Dad.” Dean agreed. 

“Sam, you best get going head on up and brush your teeth,” John said pointedly to the lingering tween. 

“Yes, sir.” Was the reply that Sam threw over his shoulder as he scampered up the stairs to Bobby’s guest room. Bobby walked back into the room carrying a stack of blankets and sheets for the couch sleeping arrangements. 

“Thanks, Bobby,” Dean said with a yawn. 

“Your welcome. Now you be careful if you have to get up in the middle of the night I haven’t gotten around to clearing out this space and I’d hate for you to trip and break your neck or something.” Dean gave a tired grin.

“I’d like to think I’m a little more graceful than that.” Bobby just shook his head. 

“Well, what you wish and what you are can be two different things kid. John a word?” Bobby jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen and John followed him. 

“I bet you have questions.” John started and Bobby gave him a sarcastic eye roll. 

“You think. So what the hell is going on? Other than seeming a little less lively than usual Dean doesn’t seem all that out of sorts.” 

“That’s just it Bobby I have no flipping clue what is going on. He was fine and then he had a fever that just wouldn’t go, and then there was the seizure and I’m stumped. But your right now he seems fine.” There was a tension in the air at the confusing mystery that Dean was becoming. 

“Well, there ain’t much to be done about any of it tonight.” Bobby sighed. “We can make a plan in the morning.” John nodded his agreement. The other hunter exited the room mumbling under his breath about headaches and fools. 

John went to the living room to check on Dean. His son had set up the couch into a bed and was laid out on it haphazardly. John winced in sympathy for Dean’s neck that was sure to be hurting come morning due to the awkward position that he was laying in. “Night Dean, rest up.” He then took a turn and climbed the stairs. He cracked the guest room door open and peered in on Sammy. 

He was sprawled as well, half the blanket falling off the bed, hair mused and mouth hanging open in a quiet snore. John took the three strides to cross the room and brought the blanket up and around his boy tucking him in. God, he looks so young like this, void of all of the tension and questions. John wished he could keep him like this. Running a hand through Sam’s shaggy curly hair John thought how he needs a haircut and smiled down at the sleeping boy. 

“Goodnight Sammy.” John then made a silent retreat from the room and across the hall to the other spare room to turn in for the night. 

___________________________________________


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean I don’t think that you understand how hard this is all going to be.” Amara began. 

“This isn’t you usual level of world ending difficult this is a whole different genre or shot to hell” Billie interjected. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

“No one remembers Elohim and really that’s beside the point because there is no trail that we will be following. He has been missing for over a millenia as far as I can put together. Do you know how destabilizing that is? That god is just gone and Chuck in his stead has managed to frick up almost every good thing my older brother ever planned to put into motion.” There was real hurt in Amara’s eyes it swirled around in her irises like fading stars. Dean noticed the wet sheen in her gaze and felt a pang of something.

“Amara,..” she just chuckled ruefully.

“This is the coldest of cold cases it practically glacial. But at the same time I get why it is all falling apart. We are cosmic but when it comes down to it we are the same entity. We need each other, the others presence is not only necessary but required. Chuck tore that apart in his hubris and thought he could just damn the consequences but there are still some rules that even we must follow.” 

Dean contemplated what she had just said. “So what your saying that one of you without the others is basically unstable.”

“Yes, essentially. I assume Chuck believed my memories didn't need to be altered seeing as i was locked away by the seal. Or maybe he thought time would take care of my memories or that my rage might overtake them. But I remember fine, the fact that my brother existed even if there are other things I can't recall.” 

“Things like what?” Dean asked.

“Well for starters Chuck’s actual name. What you thought he’s actual name was Chuck, no it isn’t. But that he did take care of because names hold power.” 

“Names hold power?” He asked. 

“Yes Dean, all names hold power. They are the key.” 

_______________________________

Dean woke up slowly the next morning, taking his time to come back into consciousness. The drive had been long and he had fallen asleep in an odd position and there was a crick in his neck that was surely some form of hellish retribution. He sat up slowly, taking in his body again, rolling his shoulders and throwing his legs forward off the couch. He sat calmly taking in the room. God, it had been forever since he had been at Bobby’s. The whole place just took him back, and for the first time, it really hit him he was back. He was also apparently a teenager again, which sucked and wasn’t ideal by any measure. Hell, he needed to find a calendar or a device with an electric clock and date. He needed to know when he was.

They’d done it. They’d sent him back in time, the sheer enormity of that settled uncomfortably on his shoulders. They had spent so long getting everything together, calculating, and there had been all of the planning on Billie and Amara’s side of things. They had never stopped to discuss or explained how jarring it would be; to be a man out of time. Dean grappled with the fact that this trip in time travel was not some short little stay to fix this or that thing or angles just dicking around, no this was permanent. For better or worse this was his new reality, his new normal. Not like his frame of reference for normal hadn’t been shot to hell years ago, but this was still trippy. 

Dean looked around the dimly lit space, taking in the house that had been one of the only places in the world that he had ever felt at home. There were books piled everywhere on the desk, side tables, floor to ceiling bookcases and scattered here and there on the ground. The room smelled like old manuscripts, gun powder, and wood. Smells that he had always associated with Bobby, well those and whiskey. Dean tugged at the slightly itchy throw blanket pulling it into his lap and began folding it up. Standing he did the same to the sheet, making the creamy cloth into a neat square setting it on top of the other blankets. He then rose to twist to and fro trying to get the last of the knots out of his spine. That was when Dean began to notice the buzzing in his head the beginning of a headache sure to follow. Okay, the next mission was obvious; coffee. 

Dean walked the short distance to the Singer signature kitchen and began rummaging through cabinets and cupboards looking for the necessary equipment. He gave a small cry of eureka when he found the filters and coffee beans. Dean set to work making the life-giving beverage and when the drink began to brew he swore the smell touched and soothed his soul. That’s how Bobby and John found him. Standing in the kitchen in boxers and a t-shirt sipping at the hot inky ambrosia. 

“It seems that you’ve gone and made yourself at home.” Bobby chuckled exasperatedly nodding at the mug in Dean’s hands. “Good morning,” 

Dean made a noncommittal noise in response. The day was on its way to being alright but he hadn’t made up his mind how he felt about any of this. John grabbed a mug of his own and poured himself a cup. He stalked forward coffee in hand looking Dean up and down, invading his personal space. John reached out and laying his palm across the crown of Dean’s forehead checking for a temperature. 

“Hey!” Dean said indignantly, “When a person had a question it is customary to just ask.” He then took a step back sidestepping his father and moving around him. Instantly uncomfortable with a touch from anyone after months of no physical contact with another being except in violence, and then the only contact he had, had been with the qazi friendly entities; literal death and the darkness. They were not exactly people he was jonesing to get cozy with anyway. His movements were not out of intentional spite, but pure instinct, now that he was in his right frame of mind he simply slipped back into it like a second skin. His split-second decisions had kept him alive. 

There was uncustomary hurt in John’s eye after Dean flinched away from his touch, which was weird because Dean didn’t remember his dad ever being that easy to read, or every showing emotions so readily. Or maybe this was how he had always been but his pink ass was too caught up in all of their complicated crap to ever see it. Guilt settled in Dean’s stomach as his father huffed and turned away. God, John was young now. 

“I check for myself cause you are unreliable. Saying you’re fine and then keeling over.” John grumbled sternly. Dean couldn’t maintain eye contact at that. 

Clearing his throat Dean asked, “What day is it?” Bobby turned from where he was standing in front of the stove where it looked like he had gathered the fixings for pancakes and bacon. 

“It’s Friday.” He said. 

“No,” Dean shook his head. “I mean what’s the date?” 

This time John replied. “ November 20th.” Dean released a steadying breath anticipating how damning his next question was going to be. 

“What year?” He said in a hushed tone. Bobby and John both shared a look of shocked worry. 

“1998,” Came the reply from behind him, Dean turned towards Sam who also stood in pajamas with concern written all over his face. “ Don’t you remember Dean?” 

Dean laughed trying to play it off, “Yeah of course. It’s stupid I just forgot for a sec. Of course, it’s 1998.” Neither his Dad or Bobby looked convinced by his performance. “Well,” he said with a clap of his hands. “I’m starving. Bobby, are any of those pancakes ready? Sammy come help me set the table and then we can go wash up.” 

Everyone in the room stood frozen for a moment until Dean jerked open the silverware drawer. The clanking of the utensils inside shattered whatever spell had been cast by Dean’s earlier question. Bobby blinked and turned back to flipping pancakes. John crossed the space to the fridge and pulled out juice, milk and butter tray. Sam also scurried to help, looking as awkward as a baby giraffe as he grabbed plates and cups and juggled them haphazardly, finally safely setting them on the table. Dean hip-checked his little brother as they crossed paths, placing silverware at each seat. 

The boy’s both hurried off to wash up. The patchwork little group then sat down for breakfast. They settled into an easy calm and the conversation flowed naturally, jibs and jokes flying freely. Looking around the table Dean thought that he could stay in this moment and be happy forever. 

Sam was saying something to him and Dean winced. The buzzing was back in full force. Water gathered behind his eyes. John was calling his name now rising from his seat across from him. A ragged gasp croaked out of him. God, his brain was on fire and being stabbed or sliced in two. Dean’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and the world went dark. He felt like he was shaking apart and then he pitched to the side and it was like he was falling in slow motion. When he hit the floor the buzzing in his head was accompanied by a new rigging in his ears. Someone shouted to call 911 and then there was nothing. 

__________________________________________

The smell of coffee had hit John as he began walking down the stairs. There was a creak on the steps behind him and he looked over his shoulders and saw Bobby. 

“Someone is an early bird this morning,” Bobby commented. John scoffed.

“He isn’t usually. Dean would sleep through the apocalypse if given the opportunity.” 

“If the kid gets a pot going when he stays over he’s welcome anytime.” 

They entered the kitchen together having passed the living room where Dean had made up the couch and the only proof that he had slept there was a neatly folded pile of bedding. Well, at least the boy was being a good guest. Not that Dean was untidy but he had never been so fastidious about it, especially not at Bobby’s. Dean was leaning against the kitchen counter in his t-shirt from the day before and a pair of boxers, it made him look even younger than he was. The boy was growing into a damn impressive young man and John was proud of him, even though he sometimes did such childish things that drove him up a wall every once in a while. No one was perfect. 

“It seems that you’ve gone and made yourself at home.” Bobby chuckled exasperatedly nodding at the mug in Dean’s hands. “Good morning,” 

“Humff,” The teen grunted at them, ah there he is. 

John rummaged through the cupboards and found a sizable cup and filled it up. Bobby got out the flour and other ingredients and started whipping up breakfast. John turns and looked at Dean who had flushed cheeks. Thinking it might just be the rosiness of sleep clinging to him or the coffee John leaned forward and ran his palm along his son’s forehead brushing his hair out of the way. Dean flinched back from the touch, taking a step back and maneuvering around him.

“Hey!” Dean said indignantly, “When a person had a question it is customary to just ask.”John looked at his son quizzically, hurt, was he apparently too old to be taken care of now. 

“I check for myself cause you are unreliable. Saying you’re fine and then keeling over.” John retorted Dean’s gaze shifted falling to the floor as if it was suddenly fascinating. John sighed. Who was he to think that he could unravel the complex mess that was going on in a teenage brain? God, and now he has two of them. 

Clearing his throat Dean asked, “What day is it?” Bobby turned from where he was standing in front of the stove looking like a domestic house husband version of himself, flour covering an apron he had donned at some point. 

“It’s Friday.” He said. 

“No,” The boy said in clarification, “I mean what’s the date?” 

John wondered at this train of questioning he hadn’t been that out of it this past couple of days, had he? He replied nevertheless, “ November 20th.”

Dean side-eyed his father as he asked in a hushed tone. “What year?” Now that set all kind of alarm bells off in John's mind and from the look of disbelief on Bobby’s face he was feeling the same way. 

“1998,” Came the reply from behind them, Sam appeared standing in pajamas as well with concern written all over his face. “ Don’t you remember Dean?” 

Dean laughed trying to play it off, “Yeah of course. It’s stupid I just forgot for a sec. Of course, it’s 1998.” John was not buying this particular brand of bullshit that Dean was selling. “Well,” he said with a clap of his hands. “I’m starving. Bobby, are any of those pancakes ready? Sammy come help me set the table and then we can go wash up.” Bobby and John shared a look having a silent conversation deciding to momentarily let Dean’s obvious lie slide and confront him about it later, without Sam present. 

John grabbed the drinks and the fixings for the pancakes from the fridge as the boys set the table. The boy’s both hurried off to wash up. The patchwork little group then sat down for breakfast. They settled into an easy calm and the conversation flowed naturally, jibs and jokes flying freely. This was all he ever wanted for the kids. A warm safe place, food on the table and people that cared about them all around. 

Mary would have loved this. Mary would have loved them, the strong, funny, kind, intelligent young men the boys were turning into. Not to mention they were both crack shots and smart on their feet. Sam made a joke and Dean laughed musically and his eyes twinkled mischievously, god, sometimes he really reminded him of his mother. Sometimes that was balm to John’s souls and other times it grated on the old wound that was Mary’s memory and her violent untimely demise. She had been so full of life like Dean, and headstrong, stubborn, confident to a fault when he thought he was in the right. But those traits were as admirable as they were dangerous, they were gonna get his kid killed one day if he didn’t slow down to look at the bigger picture and think about damned consequences. 

Sam chattered on at Dean when he suddenly made a grunt of discomfort and winced. The boy looked faraway and dazed. 

“Dean, ... Dean” John tried to get his son’s attention. “Dean can you hear me.” Dean did not respond save for the pained moaning sound that croaked out of him. John was getting out of his seat now.

Raising his voice in a harsher tone he tried again. “Dean!” His son’s eyes rolled up into the back of his head and he began convulsing in his seat. John was up and around the table catching his son who hit him like a brick as he pitched out of his seat. Bobby had also gotten out of his chair in a hurry. 

“Call 911! Bobby call 911!” 

“I’m calling them John.” 

“Dad!” Sam cried, suddenly on the ground next to him as he cradled Dean’s head in his lap. “Dad, what’s going on.” John could hear the mounting stress in Sam’s voice. Damn it he was stressed. 

“Sam get something soft for him to rest his head on.” Sam looked at him blankly. “Samuel NOW!”

Sam stood up and looked around running to the living room he grabbing a throw pillow. John wedged the pillow in between Dean’s head and his lap so he wouldn’t hurt himself. The shaking wasn’t coming to a stop it was now full-body teeth clattering convulsions. “You’re going to be alright Dean. I’ve got you.” John whispered into his son’s soft hair like a prayer. “Your gonna be alright.” John heard sirens in the distance and all he could think was hurry. Please, dear God, don’t take my son too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love hearing any feedback 💜


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been an age I acknowledge that 😋. Any way here's the chapter. The story is going to be picking up in the next few chapters this is all setting stuff up. Stay with me. All feed back is welcome. Enjoy!!!!!!!

Beth had been having a relatively good day. One of those days that looked like the world was right and that for a second all of the terrible things going on at any given point hadn’t caught up to you yet. But they always seemed to catch up to you. Doing the job that she did Beth relished in those moments, those in-betweens when the world was still and there was peace. 

Her mom had thought that she was crazy when she started working as a 9-1-1 dispatcher. She had asked why would you sign up to hear the worst day of people’s lives, to be confronted with all the horrible things that could go wrong, and the horrible things that people are willing or driven to do to one another. But that was just it, Beth thought, the horrible things were happening anyway, there was just so much pain in the world that Beth sometimes felt like she might just slip up and drowned in it. But if she could help, maybe it would be okay. If she could bring even a little calm to the chaos or save one person, maybe it would be okay. She was bound and determined to leave this world a better place than she had found it. And wasn’t that all that we could expect of ourselves, to do our part, to be kind, and to lend a hand when we were able. 

So Beth rolled out of bed that morning prepared to do the little that she knew how to do like she did every day. She took in the light of coming sunrise as she drove the fifteen minutes to work. She glanced at the light snowfall sent a prayer heavenward for safety for everyone on the roads. The world was the most honest in the morning she thought. She loved all of the potential buzzing in the air. Beth smiled at her co-workers and got a cup of bitter coffee. Shared a small joke with Kevin. Looked at the school photos of Alice's grandkids who had grown since the last picture had been taken. The room was full of good people who like her wanted to stave off a little of the darkness the way they knew how. She exhaled the tension in her body and let the caffeine do its job. 

She settled in at her station, took stock of the moment and her place in it, and she got to work. The line rang. On her first day, her trainer had told her that ready was all you could be and even when you were you had to know that sometimes it wasn’t going to be enough. The line rang. You had to know that you couldn’t save everyone but you kept going because if you all stopped then maybe next time no one gets saved. You make peace with the work. You make peace with yourself. You allow yourself to bargain and plead and then let go. Beth didn’t know if she believed in destiny or if any given person had a preordained purpose but she was confident and she knew herself, which was more than a lot of people could claim. The line rang and she was ready. 

“Hello 911, what is your emergency?” 

“My name is Bobby Singer and my kid is having a seizure?”

“Hey Bobby my name is Beth, did you say a child was having a seizure?” 

“Yes.” came the rough reply. 

“Where are you?” The man on the other end of the line rattled off and address. 

“Okay, I have help coming to your address they should be there shortly.” Beth tried to exude calm as she spoke. 

“Okay” There was a deep shuddering breath. 

“Bobby what is the child’s name and how old are they?” 

“His name is Dean and he is 19.” was the quick answer. 

“Where are they? Has he had seizures before?” 

“He’s on the floor in my kitchen. We were eating breakfast and he just keeled over and started shaking.” 

“Okay, I need you to stay calm. You need to remove anything from around them that could injure him.” 

“Okay, Sam move the chairs away from him.” the man barked to someone else in the room. 

“Have they had seizures before? Are there other people there with you?” Beth asked trying to get a mental picture of the situation. 

“Yes he has had one seizer before on Monday but it was short his dad said. His brother and father are also here.” 

“Did he receive medical attention after the first episode?” she inquired. 

“No,” Bobby said. 

“The ambulance should be about a minute out,” Beth informed them. 

“Thank god. John I’m calling help is on the way.” Beth could hear the sirens in the background of the call. “I can hear the sirens.” 

“That’s good, that really good. The men with the team our gonna help get Dean to the hospital. It okay sir help is there. It would be best if you went out and met them and brought them back to the house with you, it’ll be alright since there is another adult there who can stay with Dean.” 

“Okay, I’m going to do that now. Thank you so much.” 

“Your welcome,” Beth replied softly.

“Thank you.” and then the line went dead. Sometimes the not knowing what happened to the people that called her for help got to Beth, but she had to believe that the people who she sent to help were as good at their jobs as she was at hers. So she didn’t let herself dwell she didn’t let herself wonder. The wondering would drive you crazy. The line rang. 

“Hello 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” 

____________________________________________

The Winchester family arrived at the hospital in a bustle of motion. John had ridden in the bus with Dean and Sam and Bobby had followed int the truck. There had been a team of doctors waiting for them at the intake entrance and they had promptly whisked Dean away. The world seemed to move in a blur. There were loud noises and harsh light and code being called out over the intercom and the world seemed to be spinning out of control. John was like a horse biting at the bit. But he different have a goal. There was no clear opponent. His kid was sick and who was he to think that he could fight sickness better than trained professionals. A doctor or a nurse came out what seemed like an eternity later to take down medical information and get John’s consent to run further tests on Dean. There was a slight tremor in his hands as he filled out the forms. 

It seemed to be another eternity before anything of real significance happen. The doctor came back and told them that they were waiting on some results from Dean’s test but the look that he had when we said it made John believe that whatever the doctor suspected wasn’t going to be a walk in the park to handle. He could do difficult, difficult was fine. What he couldn’t do was dead. His son could not die. 

A nurse came and led the mismatched group from the waiting area to the room where Dean was. Bobby and Sam entered the room before him. When John’s eyes fell on his boy it was like taking a punch to the gut. He was pale and still. You might even say that he looked almost peaceful like he was just sleeping. But he wasn’t just sleeping. The tubs and wires that they had him hooked up to made John’s skin crawl and the beeping from the heart monitor set his nerves on edge. Dean was a being in constant motion the stillness did not suit him at all. 


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had always been there, like a mountain or gravity. That what Sam thought. He was just an immovable part of the world; intricate and unchangeable. But then suddenly his mountain shook apart, gravity stopped and his entire world dropped into free fall. Suddenly the immutable truth that his brother was untouchable and would always be there was challenged. Sam wasn’t under any illusions he knew the life that his family lived wasn’t normal and more than likely that his Dad was going to go out fast and bloody. He had accepted this, they dealt in violence and violence was done to them. The universe's way of keeping a twisted sense of balance. But Dean was good. Dean was strong, safe, good and his. So as far as Sam was concerned the universe could go frick off, they couldn’t have him. 

Laying in the infernal hospital bed he was so still. Like he was in an invisible coffin. The tubes that were in his nose and the wires that they had coming out of him were like physical manifestations of the grim reaper’s grip on his brother. Sam reached for his brothers hand and took it in between his own. Sam brought their clasped hands up together and rested his forehead on them. He closed his eye and let out a ragged breath. 

“Please,” He whispered into the bleak space. Hospitals he figured were a place where a lot of praying got done but it honestly couldn’t hurt at this point. “Please,... I don’t know if your listening, but Dean’s good and he is my brother. He’s the only one I got and if you could just not take him right now that would be great. Please Dean. Please.” 

There was a shift in the room and the air pressure dropped and for a moment Sam was hopeful like maybe someone had heard his prayer. That maybe they hadn’t actually been dealt a crap hand and his brother was doing an impressive impersonation of a corpse. But then the room settled and whatever it had been passed and Dean still lay in the damned hospital bed still as the grave. Sam grave a watery chuckle. Once he would like to be proven wrong and see that winchester luck could be bested by something. Sam wanted to know that his family would not forever feel like they were perpetually screwed.

Today was not the day Sam had hoped it would be. His life was not the life that he imagined his mom thought they would lead. He guessed that you just get born and that’s it and your parents are there and are supposed to love you and keep you safe and teach you right from wrong. They are there to show you how the world works. But winchester luck would have they story play out differently. He was born, Mary died and their lives collectively went to hell. His Dad loved them and he had made sure they knew more about keeping themselves protected from stuff most people didn’t even know they should be afraid of. Though it was hard to pinpoint a time when Sam had ever felt settled or safe. Whatever was wrong with Dean wasn’t something their Dad had prepared them for. This wasn’t something that he knew how to fight or fix. 

Dean was Sam’s safe place. Dean was the constant in his life. The thing that made every other nonsensical thing in his life make a drop of sense. Dean gave their crazy a sense of normal. But the world stop spinning. The axis shifted. Up is now down. All of the rules have been thrown out of the window. And Dena is not here to explain any of it. Sam isn’t sure what he would do in a world without his brother. Most days the world is just them. New schools, new towns, hours in the back of the impala flying across dirt country roads in the middle of the night. 

“You’ve got this Dean. You're going to be just fine. You have to be fine.” Sam squeezed Dean’s hand one last time and went to find his Dad as he left the room. 

________________________________________________

There was the light pressure of figure tips across his forehead. Dean’s unconscious mind dragged itself from the depths to chase the sensation. The smell of recycled air and harsh cleaning supplies assaulted his nose. Dean’s eyes cracked open and his vision swam. Wherever he was it was bright whites and baby blues. Amidst the blurring light and shapes, he saw red. Or more like he saw auburn, auburn hair. A soft pale hand reached out towards him again and hesitantly brushed his cheek feather-light. His gaze followed up across those thin fingers and up a pale arm and stopped resting on her face. 

“Amara…?” Dean whispered. He shifted and realized that he was laying down in a very uncomfortable bed. The springs dug into his back and made it twinge as he shifted to a more upright position. Amara looked so young now, like back when they were still chasing her and she was living with Crowley.. Her face was a mix of emotions; sadness and maybe a little gilt as she smiled softly down at him. 

“Hello, Dean.” the soft timbre of her voice shook something loose in him. “ I’m sorry your transition has been such a turbulent one. You are a hard man to find, Dean. But we are bound and I will always come when you need me, always.” Dean took this moment to take stock of the room he was in. The clinical smile and the bland color skeem and the railing of the sides of this bed lead him to come to the conclusion that he was in a hospital. 

“Amara..?” he began confused. The bustle of hospital staff could be heard in the hallway. 

“No, there isn’t much time. I am healing what I can. The seizures should subside. But this isn’t an issue of simply the body, Dean this is an issue of your soul.” There was a tenderness in her voice as she spoke but also an undercurrent of urgency. 

“What?” Dean’s mind was swimming. The last few hours were a blur. 

“Dean listen. Your soul, you need to tether it. You need to tether it to your body.” She said urgently. There was the sound of approaching footsteps, Amara looked over her shoulder with a toss of her auburn tresses. It was all coming back to him slowly how they had gone to Bobby’s and they were having breakfast and they he had black out. Which according to Amara was due to some seizures which were a lovely side effect of the timmy-whimmy shenanigans. Man this sucked. But when had any plans he had ever been a part of gone off without a hitch, or two dozen. 

“This is important Dean you must remember. You have to tether your soul.” she grabbed his arm tightly and leaned in to look him firmly in the eyes. He gave her a small nod. Amara tilted forward and ran her hand through his hair and some of the pain eased out of his body. As she continued to play with his hair for a moment the world shifted and he felt right, for the first time since returning to the past, he felt right. 

“Promise me?” She said softly like this one request was her lifeline in a storm, the light at the end of the ugly ass tunnel of fate that they were trying to fight. And if hope was all that he could give her, he would give her this. 

“I promise.” He replied.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! So the reason for the long wait between post is LIFE. I have had a lot going on in my personal life, which honestly is how it goes. Thanks for all of your patience with me. Here is the chapter dearies. Enjoy!!!!

"Let's get down to time travel then." Dean said with a resigned confidence he wasn't sure he felt. But this wasn't something he was going to halfcock and there wasn't any time to let doubts dissuade him. He looked over his shoulder and across the small diner to a clock on the opposing wall filled with nostalgic pictures from past decades and cheesy quotes in kitchy frames. The hands on the clock hadn't moved, not once, since they had gotten here. 

Billie followed his line of sight and glanced at the clock. She gave him a pointed lift of her brow.

"Yes. It is what you're thinking. One of the perks of pocket dimensions." He didn't care for the clear smugness in her voice. He huffed at her and she looked at him; amusement dancing in her eyes at his disdain.

"I want to stop Chuck but more than that he needs to be stopped. He has systematically destroyed the multiverse across the dimensions to fuel this one reality. He has no care for the beings in his charge. He always liked to build things simply to watch them fall apart. His apathy is the most dangerous thing about him, about any unreliable god." Amara's words were not sermon that she needed to convince him of. He was tired of being a plaything of cosmic beings.

Amara cleared her throat softly to refocus herself Dean faced forward again to pay attention. 

"Lay it on me darling." He said impishly. Billie rolled her eyes.

"To put it bluntly you can't time travel. Neither will Billie well not in a conventional sense. Billie is a reaper so she would simply merge with her past self and continue on as normal. But she is also the current iteration of Death and death can not exist in two places at once. So her consciousness will be halved. Split between her past self and the previous Death."

Dean took all of this in. "Wait what the hell. What do you mean I can't time travel. News flash I've done it before."

"No," Amara said, "you actually haven't. Castiel has time traveled and taken or sent you."

"So what's the grand plan to work around this. There is a plan right? Cause if not what was the point of all of this."

Billie's perminate demeanor when dealing with Dean seemed to be one of exasperation. "Yes, Dean. The human body while versatile is, as you are acutely aware, a very fragile thing. On top of your bodies fragility, the human mind is not meant to exist in two places at once. And having an older you running around in the past would cause numerous headaches that I simply don't want to deal with."

"Billie is correct you can't exist in that manner it will drive you crazy if not alert other beings or deities to our meddling and purpose." Amara states matter a factly. 

"Geez, good to know you care."Amara leveled him with a look he couldn't decipher. Her eyes search. Dean shifts uncomfortably.

"I do care Dean. On top of temporal travel being less than ideal for your body or the state of your sanity once you would have arrived, without precaution and protections it will fry your soul."

"Well that's good to know. Always read the fine print I guess. So how was all of this not happening when I have traveled in time before."

Billie answers this time. "Castiel."

Dean gives her a look to continue in her explanation.

"Castiel was basically your temporal taxie and hazmat suit. He wrapped you up in so much of his grace you were practically drowning in it."

Dean molded that over. "So the key to human time travel is an angel?" Dean started at them both deadpan bitterness seeping into his voice. " The angels are gone."Amara nodded.

"Yes they are gone, but in this instance not entirely necessary."

"Explain." Dean said certly knowing there is fire in his gaze.

"I am the darkness or that is what you know me as."

"Obviously,"

"While in a way that is true, it is not an appt description or even a wholly accurate one. I am the absence of things. I am the space before creation and I will be what is left after. But I don't want to be alone, not yet. Not again. Chuck stole over a milenia from me and I will take it back, I'm going to take it all back and grind that devious thieving little gnat into dust." There was a cold type of fury behind every word. 

"I am not an entirely malevolent force. It wasn't always my goal to destroy everything. And along the way people forget that. I forgot. Your laws of physics are not all correct but one universally holds true. Conservation of mass. Nothing can truly ever be destroyed, it simply changes forms. I have consumed many things and they are not lost. In my initial fight against Chuck after you released me from the cage I fought many angels and took them into myself. In a way they are still with me."

Dean was perplexed. What was this all was leading to."So what does that mean exactly?"

"It means Dean that I have enough Grace to wrap around you and to help meld your mind and soul to your younger self in a way that won't cause a paradox or kill you. I can also use it to help contain Billies memories from the previous death and keep her shielded. It means, to borrow a phrase from you, I'm going to shoot us back in time. We are going to stabilize the timeline, find Elohim and take out Chuck." 

Okay, so what is that going to look like?” He asked quizzically. Billie turned to Amara and they shared a look that was a silent conversation. 

“You know if I’m going to be a part of this I need to be a part of it. There can’t be all of these secret looks and silent conversations. If you have something to say then just say it!” Dean’s frustration was evident. The world had ended and they were essentially out of time and he had thought they were out of options and then they went and got his hopes up about reversing this shit show. But he felt like he was only getting the cliff notes of what was going on and what needed to be done. 

“That’s fair but to be frank Dean this hasn’t been done before or if it has that last being to do so is long gone or dead. This is a long shot. There is a risk involved. This could have been an exact science but its not. We are going to need time, patience and a great deal of luck.” Billie’s eyes were kind as she said this. Dean had never seen her try to be understanding. 

"Okay, fair. But don't water it down I can handle this. I need to know. I'm a big boy tell it to me straight." Dean said firmly. And the women shared a look and then they nodded and they leaned in and they told it to him straight. 

This was such a hail Mary so much of what they were doing was just guess work. This was shit right out of a crapy sci-fi or fantasy novel. But he guessed that was his life. If he ever was one to write an autobiography he could title it "Dumb Luck And A Lot of Prayer". 

They got everything they needed together made their peace with their decision the best way they knew how. Then they met up. They stood together in the middle of the complicated spell work that Amara had placed inside a circle. Why was it always circles Dean wondered. 

"Ready?" Amara asked. Billie huffed feigning   
disinterest.

"As I'll ever be." He said. Billie gave him almost a fond look.

"Don't die on us Winchester." Amara nodded her   
agreement.

"I'll do my best. See you on the other side ladies." 

Amara activated the spell. Nothing happened at first then there was a tug and Dean felt it in every molecule of his body. Then he was floating. Then he was on fire. The only thought tuning through his head was 'oh crap'. 

______________________________

Amara was new to time travel. So in a sense she wasn't expecting it to go off without a hitch. In the spell that she had used she had specified that Dean be sent back to a point in his life where he could make meaningful changes. Looking back now she understands how the vagueness of the part of the spell had come back to bite them. It had applied itself to each individual being transported by the spell. All forces of magic, celestial intent, or cosmic energy tend to have a mind of their own as they are the life blood of the universe. She had been cocky and was rusty and in a rush and now she didn't know where in time she was. 

Looking about she could see that it was near the being of humans attempts into making civilizations. She would rather know where she was and when before she plunged back into the temporal stream and launched herself through time again. 

That's when she saw him.

Cain.

Throughout her imprisonment Amara had held complicated feelings for her jailors. The curse had twisted and tormented Lucifer as much as it had burned her, and she felt pity for him. The angel of light who had been cast out into darkness, left to rule a realm he did not want unable to go home. Dean a righteous man who had given and given until he had nothing left for himself. A mortal being who had been tasked to save a world of ungrateful and unaware people over and over and had succeeded against all odds. The weight of that responsibility cutting him up inside but he bore it so they didn't have to. He fought the curse taken so he could once again lift the world baring down on his shoulders. He had freeded her at great personal cost, everything he did seemed to cost him. But she was grateful to Dean and always would be. 

Cain. But Cain she hated. She wasn't a being that could be easily riled to large displays of emotion. Elohim and Chuck being the general exceptions who could push her to new extremes of elation or rage. But Cain called forth in her a red hot fury. Rage to burn the world to ash to purge him for it.

She looked out at him unaware of her presents and she fumed. She was bitter and enraged and justified. He was deserving of all of her malace. So she put her anger to use and she servade the scene of his life before her. She saw him whole and happy and it bite into her. Mind made up she decimated his life and any good thing within reach she took from him. 

She had pleaded and bargained and breseached this spore of a man and had been denied and taunted and tormented. Glancing at a world made in love between a family that was whole and happy and all of the things she feared she would never be again. And so she took and tore and ruined him because he had broken her in some fundamental way. It had not been his choice initially he was a pawn but then he changed and he revealed in it and that would not be forgiven. 

After the time had passed and she left him fractured and he moved on she righted the damages she had made. She wasn't like Elohim forgiving but she knew how to make reputations. She found the girl who Cain had loved and she restored her. 

The girl was just that not much more than a human's seventeen. Amara had taken her away and hide her as she decimated Cain's world. When she came out she was shaking and filled with fear and awe. Her hair was a vibrant red and her eyes a river bed blue. There were tear tracks running down her face. They left pale paths in their quake cleaning away the dirt from her face. 

"I ask why you have done this." Said a quiet but firm voice from the girl. Amara turned in her  
vessel appearing human to the child. 

"What makes you think that I should answer you?" Amara questioned. 

The girl gave a stubborn lift of her chin and stared into her eyes defiantly. "You have stepped in and laid waist to this land and my life."

Amara contemplated the girl's answer. "I did not mean to cause others distress and I have restored what I have broken. But I will not apologise because my wrath was justified and owed to me."

"Who incurred your wrath?"

"Cain." Amara spit his name from her mouth like a curse."You do not know him the way that I do. But he is at his core an evil man."

"I love him," was her only reply.

"Pick better. Love better. You are young and your whole life is before you."

The girl let out shuddering breath. "I have a request of you, if I may." Amara raised her brow and nodded. "Take his name and face from me, or I will follow him. But I do not want to seek evil or ever allow evil back into my life. For serpents come and they make promises about life and the fruit they offer is sweet but they turn the good inside of you. I want to know when I am in the present of evil. I don't want to be blind or at their mercy ever again. Please."

"Not may would ask for such a thing. I could make you a book of spells compounded from the greatest witches throughout time to protect you."

"I do not want to be a witch for they too deal and bargain and it harms others who have not acted against them. Everything has a price but I do not think I would like to pay a witch's price." Amara nodded. 

"I could make you something else. Something that balances. You would take only from the land and earth that you work and that you live in and that has cared for you. You could siphon for the creatures that would overpower you. You would not be in the present of evil unknowingly. You could not be overtaken or your will subjugated by other beings. Your life would be long so you might learn and teach and I would be your matron."

The girl nodded. So Amara changed her and while she took Cains face and name from her mind she left the warning of the dangers in evil men. And Amara left the love. Because sometimes we love people that we shouldn't. 

Amara dropped her in a new place with kind and open people, a place she could be safe. 

The girl turned at the gate. "What should I call you?" The deity hesitated because names held power. But she searched the girl's soul and heart and saw only resolve, love, compassion and a desire for peace. 

"Amara," the girl smiled and it was a balm to the darkness and soothed and lulled her rage back to slumber. 

"Be well Amara, my name is Freya." The girl turned and walked through the gate and Amara jumped back into the temporal stream in search of the things she had lost. Because she would get back what was taken from her, every bit of it.


	10. Note From Author

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update

Hey all,

So life has really been getting away from me lately and I keep coming back to this little love project of mine and it keeps kicking me in the gut. I sit paralyzed looking at the screen and I see that it has so much potential and I don't want to F it up. I want so badly to do a good job and for a long while I have not been in a headspace where I could do that. I have continued to struggle with my mental health and other physical health scares. This has required me to have multiple doctor visits over this past year with little to no new helpful information other than that I am sick.

Due to my own health and the anxiety that this has caused me, I have had to take a step back from this story because it also largely focuses on Dean's trauma and mental health and not just being a neat time travel piece with a twist. In taking that step back I noticed there are some things that I want to change and rework for a better setup for the plot later on. Filling in some of my shotty writing so that it doesnt have major plot holes.

I'm going to be cleaning this peice up a bit and then reposting it but I will leave this version up so that people can still read and find it. When I post the new revised version it will be under a different title so I will come back here to let any following this story know so they can hop over to continue the read.

Thanks y'all

-AA


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